We realize that not all of you could make it to reunion this time due to some tedious detail in your dreary life that we don't need to explore.  Being the service-oriented, community-spirited paper that we are, we wanted to let everyone know about the events at Reunion so that even if you could not make the event (loser), you can still pretend that you were there.  We sent a 'tontontontonian reporter to the scene to record the weekend's most memorable events.

Convocation of Dollars: Arguably the most popular event of the weekend and the reason that many of us went to reunion, this special convo was presided over not only by The Prez himself, but also lots of other people! Sure, there were heartfelt speeches, humorous and tearful events, and even a song or two, but best of all was the talk (brief but riveting) of how much money every single person had ever given to the college and how good that made the rest of us feel. The climax was, of course, the moment when the class of '52 revealed that they had embezzled $28,000,000 from the college over the years; oh, the laughs we had at that! But eventually, sadly, the party was over and we all filed out of the church as the bells rang out the tune to Pink Floyd's "Money".

Parade of Classes: Often misunderstood as a passive happening at reunion, this is actually a team and individual sport of some consequence. For the classes of '92 and '97, the parade consisted of nothing but a short amble around the Bald Spot on a hot day. But for the older folks at reunion (starting with us and continuing through the 4 people left from the class of 1897), the forced march through the 110 degree 110% humidity was nothing short of an endurance contest with the losers facing certain death. For those of us that survived the ordeal, getting to watch the "Convo of Dollars" was a prize that matched the achievement.

Mud Wrestling: This event was on the agenda anyway, but the torrential rains only helped to facilitate what ended up being a fun-filled family-oriented event. After the 150 attendees from '97 quickly dispatched the team of 4 (now 2) from 1897, various other events ensued. Our class relived the senior year softcore rottblatt finals where the winners beat the winners of the hardcore league. To match the setup of that original match, the hardcore team first finished an entire keg between the 2 members of that original team that showed up for reunion. They then took on the 13 members of the softcore team (all sober) in a festival of mud, softballs, and baseball bats whose outcome is still being debated today. Many of the alums that participated escaped injury (a moment of near quiet was held for those who died during the games) and the alumni children that survived had fun. When asked about the games, one child responded "Can we go home now? I gotta go potty!", which is a pretty clear indication to this reporter of that little tyke's excitement.

Food Fight: We were all impressed by the new food hall (it stands in a place that used to be some useless patch of grass and trees), but we felt something was lacking. For one thing, the dish washing room was too far away from the
eating tables so that we could not smell mold and suds as we plowed into our bowls of Malt O' Meal. But more importantly: where were the tell-tale food stains on the walls on ceiling?  Well, it was high time to inaugurate the hall with a bit of festive food fun. A signal from Emily Charsenbird ('37) started the fray as she dumped her plate of pancakes onto her neighbor, Charlie Pesthen ('42). Then all hell broke loose: the Cap'n Crunch flew, the orange-juice-from-concentrate sloshed, the scrambled eggs and sausage skidded underfoot and the oatmeal hangs to this day from several blobs on the ceiling. Now that place is ready to serve college students!

Rumble: Reunion's just not reunion when there's not an old score settled. This time, it was the English majors from '87 versus the entire English department. They even brought back some of the Old Guard as John Tallmadge was seen leading some of the forays. The only rule was no knives, so everyone brought guns of course. Amid cries of "Faerie Queen Sucks!" and "You kids never read one damn assignment!" the battle ensued. The final score was not announced, but the college has recently posted 3 new positions for tenure-track positions in the department to fill the openings created from the battle.

Hill of 3 Oaks and a Stump Lumberjack Contest: In an attempt to keep mother nature from eliminating one of the trees as it did with lightning several years ago, the college initiated a lumberjack contest in which each class got to put forward one member to participate in a team sawing of the largest oak on the hill. The final event took just over 10 minutes and cost only 4 fingers, one hand, an ear, and one crushed mandible. The hill is looking mighty fine now.

Harvard of the Midwest Event: In an attempt to make Carleton even more the "Harvard of the Midwest", the college and the reunion committee, in cahoots with the current Schiller gang, decided to make this distinction a little more obvious this year. A swat team was sent out to that institution and they returned on a flatbed, bearing the official facilities gardening shack from Harvard and the current groundskeeper of that college. The landscaper was taken against his will (the kidnap occurred while he was in the middle of his omelet and beer that morning), but once at Carleton he was reportedly interested in applying for the new college President position.

Janie Finchdrew Advises: What Now? 

Reunion's Over: Now what do I do with my life?

You've spent the last year preparing for reunion: working out, building your drinking tolerance, practicing your lies about your peachy life, and waiting for the hair implants to grow. Now reunion has come and gone and you are back in
the dismal hole of your daily existence. What now? Specifically, how can you occupy the next 5 years until the next reunion (assuming the classes around us don't invite us to their reunion like we invited them, the losers).

Janie has some useful tips for you that might just keep that razor blade away from your wrist (standard legal restrictions apply: Janie, her editor, this newsletter, the website, the ISP, and the Internet take no responsibility for your unfortunate but grisly demise if her handy pointers don't perk you up enough).

Get out those yearbooks. Get the books down from the shelves, out from the closets, back from the pawn shops and dust them off but good; it's time to wallow in nostalgia. Give these books a
thorough going-over, looking at all the fun you used to have in the various clubs you belonged to. No pictures of you? Didn't belong to any clubs? No problem: just find pictures of people that look like they're having fun and squint real hard and imagine that it was you there, winning the pinball tourney or breaking the 7-th inning chug contest.

Performance Evaluation Time. Evaluate your performance at reunion this year. Did you have fun? Did you meet interesting people? Most importantly, were you more interesting than the rest of the people you met, or at least did it seem that way to everyone else? Probably not. In this case, it's time to take stock and get ready for next time. Remember how you concocted a whole facade for your life in preparation for reunion this time? Well now you have 5 years ahead of you. With that much time, you could actually change your life around; you could find the job you want, meet people you love, travel to places you've always wanted to see, live in a city that you've always pined for. But that's all too much work, of course; much better to spend that 5 years working on even better lies than you used this time. Remember, you don't just have to play this charade at reunion; you can test out your stories on everyone you meet until your entire fantasy life is bullet-proof and ready for the 20th reunion.

Pick a new personal style. That old look you have looks old on you. The clothes, the way they fit, your haircut, the nipple ring; all of these items are so familiar to you and everyone else that there's simply nothing interesting about
them anymore. By the time you get to the 20th, people will simply fall asleep looking at you. It's time to pick a new personal style. Dress naked, tattoo your face, die your pubic hair, file your toes off, add a finger or three; really do some
radical stuff. And do it now while there's still time; what you are really aiming at is getting these ridiculous notions out of your system before the next reunion. After all, you want to impress people, not freak them out.

Get a sex change. Go out and have that
operation you've always wondered about. It doesn't matter if you've never actually wanted a sex change, only that you've wondered what it's all about. Now you've got a lot of time to explore this option. In fact, if it doesn't work out
to your satisfaction, there might be enough time to switch back before the next reunion. Think of the experiences you could regale people with at the 20th.

Uncle Carl responds to classmates' concerns about reunion 

Dear Uncle Carl: I really really really wanted to come to reunion but I couldn't because I was finishing my dissertation, working a double-shift at the plant to support my 7 foster kids, recovering from the beatings of my alcoholic abusive aunt, and at the last minute my Dad and all 7 of his ex-wives died in a freak water polo accident. I just wanted to apologize to the community and the world at large and tell them that I'll be there next time.

Uncle Carl says: It's exactly that kind of weak excuse that forced us to adopt the new "Come or Be Damned" policy this time around. I'm sorry (or not), but there's probably no way to reinstate your good standing in order to attend next time. But don't forget to Keep On Givin' to the college alumni fund. Remember our slogan: We may not love you, but we sure love your money.

Dear Uncle Carl: Someone took my watch from my room and it was really nice and I want it back and stuff.

Uncle Carl says: Did you ask Lost & Found? Can you describe it? How much is the reward? Actually, never mind; I really like it and I wouldn't give it back anyway.

Dear Uncle Carl: I used to feel inadequate about never being in the 'Voice. But a quick look at the amount of money other classes are giving to the college totally swamps that feeling. Not only do I feel ungenerous and unsupportive of my Doesna Mater, I feel completely destitute. Where did these folks come up with all this dough and how can I get some like that?

Uncle Carl says: Fortunately for you, the college recognized long ago (in about 1984) that our year was never going to amount to anything and they would have to look elsewhere for their funding. In fact, President Lewis was hired under the specific charter "Find money; these 80's classes are too poor to pull their own weight." I can't tell you how to get that rich because, frankly, it ain't gonna happen. I can just assure you that noone is going to come knocking on your door anytime soon looking for a million bucks in donations.

Dear Uncle Carl: I didn't smell the Malt O' Meal plant or the turkey farm the entire time I was at reunion. What gives?

Uncle Carl says: The MOM plant was
converted in 1993 to loft condos (I live in one myself). The turkey farm became a Sun City North development for geezers that have money and don't like kids; there's a nice pool where the feed trough used to be and the old turkey manure was converted into vitamin supplements for the full-care patients at that facility. By the way, I notice you didn't ask about St. Olaf; that college did so well in it's standings that it actually moved (hill, buildings, and all) to Faribault. They apparently got tired of being constantly compared to Carleton and decided they needed their own space in a more prestigious community. We will miss them, you betcha.

Dear Uncle Carl: My friend Ms. Jemneline (last name withheld to respect the privacy of the individual) assured me that she would be at reunion but I didn't see her there. What happened?